Malfested Calibur
by Wingsofhermes
Summary: SC3, Slight AU. Siegfried and his allies have traveled to Southern Europe in hopes of finding help against Soul Edge when a new power emerges within a young, scarred, yet battle-hardened youth. A new path awaits this boy, who struggles against Soul Edge to retain his mind and soul. A life changing adventure...for better...or for worse... I own nothing except the OC.


Malfested Calibur

**A/N: I have been dwelling on this idea for quite some time now, and I decided to get it out of my head so I could work on Foward Unto Death more. This is going to take awhile to continue doing, as I am trying to make FD my only active story right now so this is just a little teaser of what's to come. I will also be setting up a poll to see who people want to see my OC paired with. No yaoi (sorry all, but I don't feel comfortable writing it. Nothing against it.) and the choices will be posted at some point.**

How easily it is for one to fall into the excitement of a tournament, where bets are made, and money is either won or lost, and the victor gets paid for their win, as well as a little bonus if the staff were feeling generous. Each day, combatants would enter and fight for the spectators enjoyment, or even recruitment, for what better way to search for a mercenary then watching prospects fight from a distance.

This, however, was not the case for Siegfried Schtauffen and his comrades as they approached the dome. Along with the German knight were Ivy, a British aristocrat, the sibling Greeks, Sophitia and Cassandra, a Korean man named Yun-Seong and his sister Seong Mi-na, the Chinese monk Kilik, the sword dancer Xiangua, the ex-pirate Maxi, the Japanese Fu-ma ninja Taki, and the Wind Priest Talim. They had come to the port city in response to rumors that had floated about in regards to a powerful warrior who was thought to be in possession of inhuman strength. They had arrived in the town and began asking about, and soon pinpointed the arena as their destination (despite Ivy's claims of it being obvious, the group as a whole felt it better to be certain).

They filed into the arena, sticking together and drawing attention because of it. They largely ignored the attention, which was quickly diverted as the announcer called out for bets to be made for the last match of the day. Soon, a murmur rose throughout the crowds gathered, which was soon quieted once deals were sealed, either by confidence or the point of a knife.

"Fine, young and beautiful ladies! Strapping, boastful, and proud gentlemen! I welcome you to our last match for the day. It has been quite a day full of activity, and this last fight will be no different!" The announcer then dramatically threw a hand in the direction of one of the gates as it opened to reveal a large man wearing heavy armor and carrying a large hammer. "First, is the rising challenger, Arangar! A promising man who fights more on pure instinct then anything else!" Arangar crashed his hammer into the ground dramatically and roared, drawing a cheer from his supporters. Once the crowd quieted, the announcer then gestured towards the other gate. "Next, ladies, you all know him, and you all love him. Please, welcome back our champion, the Cursed Blade!" The name, though somewhat typical of arena fighters, drew the attention of Siegfried's group, but nothing could be said as of yet, as the gate opened to admit a slim figure into the arena, wearing a long black jacket, the ends reaching down to his ankles, his hands covered by gloves and black hair reaching down about an inch past his shoulders.

A decorated long sword was hanging from the back of his waist with two ribbons, one red and one gold, were wrapped around the pommel, which he pulled out slowly, almost reverently, with his right hand as a cheer rose from the stands. A lone rose floated in the air before snatched by the Blade, who took a moment to smell it before tucking it in his hair just behind his ear. Arangar was getting impatient as he fidgeted, eager to win the title, while the Blade was nonchalant about the whole thing. The announcer then backed away before declaring the fight to be underway.

Arangar wasted no time in charging at the thin boy, who couldn't be more then seventeen, swinging his hammer savagely. The Blade stepped out of the way easily, almost uncaring, before stabbing his sword towards Arangar's side, slipping it into a gap in the man's armor, cutting deeply before withdrawing the blade and spun further away. Arangar grabbed his injured side before roaring again and charging once more at the boy, swinging his hammer sideways, intent on catching the boy no matter which direction he went. The Blade, contrary to what Arangar was expecting, actually ran towards him.

Arangar, somewhat stumped at the Blade's action, swung clumsily at the champion, who gracefully leaped up, landing on the hammer as it swung at him, before launching himself over Arangar, swinging at Arangar's back, slicing through the metal and leaving a long and angry gash in his armor. The crowd's noise increased from the boy's stunt, whether it was in awe, astonishment, or incredulity. Arangar reeled away from Blade as the boy twisted in mid air to land on his feet, facing Arangar. The large warrior was on his knee, bracing himself with his hammer as he caught his breath.

"Surrender Arangar. You fought well all day, I won't deny it, but I do not want today to end with another death." The Blade spoke, his voice carrying the distinct inflection's of the people in Russia as Arangar struggled to his feet. Instead of responding, the large man grabbed his hammer and threw it at the young man before bull rushing him. The Blade raised in eyebrow before ducking under the hammer as Arangar charged him. With an almost uncaring expression, the Blade lashed out with his left fist, colliding it with Arangar's neck, sending the man backwards before lashing out and kicking him in the head, knocking him down and dazing him. Arangar coughed violently as Blade approached the prone opponent, his pace steady and confident. The crowd went quiet in anticipation, as the Blade had a reputation for being unpredictable in his dealing with challengers; some he let live, others he killed, sometimes extremely violently.

Stopping above Arangar, Blade looked down at the man and tilted his head to the left, observing the man for a moment before sheathing his blade and turning on his heel, a soft smile on his face as he walked away. As the announcer started to bring the fight to a close, Arangar rose up as he ripped a dagger out of a hidden sheath in his boot, and charged at the champion. In the span of a split second, the Blades demeanor shifted from pleasant to murderous as he ducked under the swing, spun and jabbed his left hand forward so hard, it penetrated the armor of Arangar's chest plate and skin and he gripped at the man's beating heart. The young man looked up at Arangar's pained face, a cold look in his eye, giving the man a view of Death's promise. "You fought with honor, so I let you live. You tried to attack me while my back was turned. Now you die." As he spoke, his voice sending chills down the man's spine as his grip slowly tightened around Arangar's heart. "As you pass from this world, think on that." Arangar started to convulse from the pain that radiated inside him, his eyes begging for mercy. A cold chuckle was the Blade's response as he grabbed Arangar's neck with his right hand and pulled out Arangar's heart with the other.

Arangar screamed in pain and horror when he realized what the Russian boy was doing. The Blade pulled the heart out of Arangar's chest, a fountain of blood flying free along with the still beating organ, the man's veins still attached. Blade squeezed Arangar's throat tighter, cutting off the screaming and turning it into a gurgling noise as Arangar flailed at the boy's arms in an attempt to break his grasp, but to no avail. Gritting his teeth, the Blade yanked the heart away entirely, sending a fresh wave of blood shooting free, coating a good portion of his body in red as he dropped the rapidly dying Arangar. As the light faded from the challenger's eyes, the last thing he saw was a dripping red mass in the boy's hand, a cold, hardened expression on his face.

Blade dropped the heart back into the gaping wound uncaringly and walked away from the gruesome sight and the stunned crowd. Only when the red boy had left the arena was the victory announced and money exchanged. Several young women ran out of the arena with eager faces, rambling about meeting the young Russian boy, but not before being snapped at by a rather irritated Ivy, who they had run past in their eagerness.

Sophitia brushed a strand of blonde hair from her eyes that glinted with slight panic as she looked over at the silent Fu-ma woman. "Taki, did you feel anything from him?" The Oracle warrior asked, as she had more experience fighting Soul Edge minions then she did. The Japanese woman nodded once.

"Yes. From his left arm. Atypical of Soul Edge malfestation though...it's normally the right hand." The well endowed ninja noted, ignoring the lecherous looks from various men shot the way of her and her fellow women. The Oracle had a pensive look on her face as Siegfried and the others left, the members breaking into their own side conversations.

"That's true. But how did you know it was his left? The energy was all over his body…" Sophitia replied.

Taki looked over at the Greek. "Two reasons. One is, his left was wrapped in bandages, and while it normally means nothing, it leads to my second point. When he had Arangar's heart, I noticed rapid movement shifting in a small part of his forearm, as well as a faint red light shining through the wrappings." She answered, stunning the blonde with how she noticed those tiny details. The ninja moved away from the woman and approached the equally blonde German knight, Siegfried.

Siegfried looked down slightly at the Japanese woman. "Yes Taki?"

"The boy. You're planning to meet him?" She questioned, already knowing the answer.

The knight nodded. "Yes. He is malfested, but he displays no signs of being under the sway of Soul Edge. It may be because of it's current state, but I want to make certain that he is not." The German lowered his voice as the group entered the lobby as the other spectator's filed out. The ninja shook her head.

"No. You cannot. You bear too close a connection to Soul Edge to safely maintain communications with a malfested. Allow Kilik to go in your place, as well as Sophitia and myself. Take the others and find an inn to stay in for the night." The woman instructed. Siegfried nodded; having grown to accept Taki's advice when she gave it. After relaying the plans, despite Ivy's and Maxi's objections, the group agreed, though Talim desperately wanted to go and cleanse the Russian.

The group broke apart, the majority of them leaving the other three to stay behind at the arena, and the three couldn't shake an odd feeling.

(scene change)

"Shit….the bastard bled too much…" Vladimir swore as he tried to clean his bloodied jacket in a river. He had already tried to clean off his shirt, but it was obvious that the blood had ruined it beyond repair, so he had simply dropped it beside his sheathed blade, Mertvoye Sirena, leaving his scarred chest exposed, cleaned of the hot blood that had stuck onto him. His bandages remained wrapped around him, despite the blood ruining their normal purpose.

Pulling his finally cleaned jacket out of the river, he placed it onto a rock out in the sun to dry and pulled back under the shade of a tree by the bank. After looking around quickly with hesitation, he pulled at the tightly wound bandages and unwrapped his forearm, slowly revealing red, rough and scaly skin with the image of an eye in the center. Vladimir took out another roll that he took from the arena and tore off the old bandages. He took a moment to run a finger over the eye in thought. "You never reacted like you did during the match...but he had no aura of any sort...what set you off I wonder…" He mused aloud.

"Do you often make a habit of speaking to yourself?" A foreign voice echoed from the tree behind him, causing Vladimir to whirl around, hiding his arm behind him as he grabbed his sword. Two figures approached from the shadows, a man with a staff and a blonde woman with a sword and shield. Another woman jumped down from the trees, this one with two knifes on her back. His arm twitched slightly as he felt the aura from one of the knifes, but he ignored it, as well as her choice of clothing, though his adolescent side was screaming at him to notice it, focusing instead on the newcomers. He stood and took a ready stance, doubtful that he could take on all three of them at once. '_Devil take me...why did this have to happen today?'_


End file.
